The Demonic Supreme Sword Novel - Chapter 78

Chapter 78
## Chapter 78: A Debt Repaid in Full (2)

“Back away. This is above your pay grade.”

Thunderclap grabbed hold of Cheol Woo just as he prepared to lung forward. In the next breath, Thunderclap drove his knuckles toward the section of the wall where the blade had pierced through.

Boom boom boom!

A violent eruption of internal energy surged forward, completely erasing a wall of the Cheonnak Pavilion from existence.

“Time to see what kind of face hides behind that steel.”

Cheol Woo popped his neck from side to side, walking into the breach.

Stone fragments rained down from the demolished barrier, and a thick haze of pulverized mortar choked the air, yet he didn’t pause for a second. His adversary proved just as bold.

Before Cheol Woo could take more than a few strides, a piercing whistle cut the silence.

A blade’s path tore through the haze, radiating a blinding light.

Even as the opponent’s strike hemmed in every possible escape route within a heartbeat, Cheol Woo didn’t flinch. Instead, a predatory smirk split his face as he drove his fist directly into the sword’s trajectory.

Bam!

The collision of metal and bone generated a thunderous roar that far exceeded a normal clash, stirring the settling grit back into a blinding storm that swallowed the area.

“You still standing?”

Thunderclap, having leaped back to safety, brushed the dust from his vision and called out.

“Pipe down.”

Cheol Woo, having been jolted back three paces by the kinetic force, barked back with clear irritation.

He was aware the enemy was a master capable of manifesting Intent Sword, but the level of finesse was higher than he had anticipated. Regardless, the mere fact that he had been forced backward stoked the fires of his rage.

As Cheol Woo pushed his Ink Gang Asura Qi to its absolute limit, a localized tempest swirled around his frame. The suffocating dust was blown away in a heartbeat.

His eyes locked onto the elderly man standing amidst the ruins of the wall.

“Not a bad start, old man. Now try to survive this.”

Cheol Woo pivoted his frame and lunged.

Rumble rumble boom!

The very earth trembled, and the structural beams of the nearby buildings let out a pained groan.

With a violent twist of his hips, he threw a punch that dragged massive, spiraling air currents in its wake.

This was the second movement of the Collapsing Heaven Three Strikes, a technique evolved from the concentrated power of the Overlord Sixteen Punches: Collapsing Heaven Thunder.

While the spectators shivered at the raw display of force, the old man’s blade moved with fluid grace against Cheol Woo’s advance.

Hummm!

The steel let out a low vibration.

Shhhk!

Nine distinct threads of sword qi flared from the point of the blade, announcing their arrival.

The patriarch of House Ha Hu, Ha Hu Je, unleashed the premier technique of his bloodline with absolute certainty.

The opponent had parried Intent Sword with his bare skin, proving he was a martial anomaly, but Ha Hu Je remained confident that the Nine Dragon Sword Art—the beginning and the end of House Ha Hu’s legacy—would be the final word.

The two titanic forces crashed together.

Boom boom boom boom!

An ear-splitting explosion rang out as a pale mist rose like a thick shroud, and myriad splinters of stone and wood flew in every direction.

Cries of agony rose from the sidelines as sharp debris tore through the flesh of onlookers.

Unlike the previous clash where neither side yielded, the result of this exchange was undeniable.

While Cheol Woo continued his march with a freezing grin, Ha Hu Je—who had been certain of his victory—was forced into a clumsy retreat, his features twisted in shock.

His once-elegant garments were reduced to rags, and his hair stood in wild disarray. His long, dignified beard had been partially ripped away, now tangled with grime and filth in a pathetic display.

Looking down at his left shoulder, Ha Hu Je’s gaze turned grim.

A sharp shard of bone pushed against grotesquely inflamed skin. Searing agony radiated from the socket. All feeling below the joint had evaporated. Even without a close look, he knew his left arm was likely crippled.

‘Was it my own vanity? Or is this man truly a god of war?’

The thought offered no comfort, only cold truth.

‘The Nine Dragon Sword Art I just used was executed perfectly. Its strength was beyond reproach. Yet, I didn’t just lose the momentum—I was completely crushed. This man operates on a different plane of existence.’

As Ha Hu Je processed the reality of the situation, Cheol Woo closed the distance.

“Hey, pops. Is that the best you can do?”

The words were taunting, but the predatory hunger in Cheol Woo’s eyes served only to reignite Ha Hu Je’s pride.

“Not by a long shot. We’ve only just begun.”

Ha Hu Je pushed his Heaven-Earth Blazing Divine Art to its peak, causing visible flames of essence to lick the air around him.

Feeling his dantian overflow and the power of the technique saturate his limbs, he swept his blade forward.

Whoooosh!

A grand melodic cry erupted from the sword, followed by the pinnacle forms of the Nine Dragon Sword Art: Nine Dragon Blood, Nine Dragon Fang, and Nine Dragon Slash.

Ignoring his mangled shoulder, Ha Hu Je initiated a strike even more frantic than his first.

Even within the center of a barrage that turned the surrounding landscape to rubble, Cheol Woo laughed in the face of the storm—daring the old man to do his worst—and dove headlong into the teeth of the attack, cracking his joints.

“Kahahaha!”

His manic laughter echoed between the heavens and the earth. Wrapped in the protective layer of Ink Gang Asura Qi, he fought back with the savagery of a wild animal.

Boom boom boom boom!

In a flash, they traded more than thirty lethal exchanges.

Only Sima Geon possessed the vision to follow every detail. Even Thunderclap could only catch the blurred echoes of their speed.

“The old man has heart. Even within the cult, you’d be hard-pressed to find a master of that caliber.”

Thunderclap offered a rare moment of genuine respect for Ha Hu Je’s prowess.

“True. But it won’t be enough to stop Cheol Woo.”

Sima Geon had already decided the fight’s conclusion.

“And what about those vermin trying to crawl through the shadows?”

Thunderclap gestured toward a group of figures moving through the chaos with a sneer.

“Drive them off. Don’t take their lives—just break their spirits.”

“Come again?”

Thunderclap blinked, surprised by the uncharacteristic mercy in Sima Geon’s command.

“If my suspicion is correct, those are retainers of House Ha Hu. Cheol Woo realized it long ago.”

Sima Geon tilted his head to the left, then shifted his gaze toward the right.

“And those arriving late appear to be members of the Beggars’ Sect.”

“House Ha Hu I expected, but the Beggars’ Sect is a nuisance we can’t ignore.”

Thunderclap let out a dry laugh as he spotted the unmistakable tattered robes of the incoming beggars.

“Regardless, let’s avoid a bloodbath… Actually, just stay here and protect the others. I’ll take care of it.”

Sima Geon left the safety of Ma Yang and the Hao Gate members to Thunderclap and began a slow walk forward.

“Stay sharp, everyone.”

As Sima Geon drew near, Mo Uk—the head of the Beggars’ Sect branch in Hangzhou—issued a hushed caution.

He had sprinted here with his men following a desperate appeal from Hao Gate, though he had initially written the matter off as a trifle. He had assumed some common criminals were shaking down Hao Gate over a girl—privately mocking their lack of control.

But the sight of Hao Gate changed his mind. The wreckage wasn’t the result of a brawl; it was a slaughterhouse. And the duel between Ha Hu Je—a legendary figure of House Ha Hu—and that massive beast of a man was nothing short of apocalyptic.

‘Something is wrong here.’

Mo Uk watched Sima Geon with growing dread.

The man radiated no obvious bloodlust or malice, yet an instinctive terror gripped Mo Uk’s heart. He took solace only in the fact that House Ha Hu’s warriors were standing with them.

Mo Uk and Ha Hu Ryong—the leader of the House Ha Hu contingent—exchanged a quick glance.

‘We strike as one.’

Acknowledging Ha Hu Ryong’s silent cue, Mo Uk signaled his men.

As the Beggars’ Sect disciples circled around the flanks, Ha Hu Ryong gave the order.

“Take him down!”

A wave of attacks converged on Sima Geon from every angle.

The warriors of House Ha Hu—a family that stood toe-to-toe with the Five Great Clans—moved with lethal efficiency. Their strikes were surgical, devoid of wasted motion, and perfectly synced so no one hindered another.

Observing their teamwork, Sima Geon found himself reminded of the Divine Demon Division he had once commanded.

‘Impressive discipline.’

Man for man, they were no match for the Divine Demon Division, but their collective harmony was superior.

Despite the incoming blades, Sima Geon remained calm.

Only when the cold steel reached for his eyes did he unsheathe his own weapon.

Clang clang clang!

The sound of ringing steel was immediately followed by the cries of the attackers.

Their blades snapped and spun away into the dirt.

That was only the beginning. Every flash of Sima Geon’s sword resulted in a scream; enemies clutched at ruined wrists or shattered ribs before collapsing.

In a matter of breaths, half of them were on the ground. Ha Hu Ryong turned to Mo Uk with wide, desperate eyes.

“Lend us your strength! Save the house!”

Mo Uk ordered a full-scale charge to intervene.

The disciples of the Beggars’ Sect rushed in with feral roars.

They attempted to overwhelm him with sheer volume, but their target was a mountain. Their timing and precision were abysmal compared to House Ha Hu—some even tripped over their own comrades, creating a mess of limbs.

Unimpressed by the famous Beggars’ Sect’s lack of polish, Sima Geon increased the severity of his strikes.

Another dozen men were leveled instantly.

Most of them were beggars—he took no lives, but none of them were getting back up soon, their bones shattered. A few more House Ha Hu men fell, though they fared slightly better in terms of injury.

“That’s enough. Move another step, and I start taking heads.”

Sima Geon’s voice was like ice, causing the survivors to recoil. They looked to Mo Uk and Ha Hu Ryong, who both stood paralyzed, unable to give the order to continue.

Having shattered their resolve with a display of absolute dominance, Sima Geon turned his back on them.

The primary conflict was reaching its finale.

‘He is a demon in human skin.’

Ha Hu Je’s eyes, as he desperately tried to keep his sword moving, began to cloud with a sense of futility.

He had lost track of time, entering a state of total focus where he used every trick in his repertoire—from clan secrets to dirty brawling tactics. None of it mattered. Those simple punches could shatter peaks; that indestructible body was a fortress.

‘I have lost.’

Ha Hu Je lowered his blade as Cheol Woo walked toward him without haste. Having emptied his reserves in the battle, he didn’t have a drop of strength left to give.

Ha Hu Je accepted the end, but Ha Hu Cheong—who had been watching from the side—refused to let it happen.

“We stand with you, Uncle!”

With Ha Hu Cheong at the lead, the remaining backup warriors charged.

Ha Hu Je’s brow furrowed.

Ha Hu Cheong was a talent among talents, even by the patriarch’s standards. The disciples with him were the equal of any major sect. But against Cheol Woo, they were merely lambs to the slaughter.

And it wasn’t just him—two other monsters stood behind him, tired but clearly the victors of their own skirmishes. The writing was on the wall.

“Stand down!”

“We cannot, Uncle!”

Ha Hu Cheong shook his head, refusing to retreat.

As Ha Hu Je opened his mouth to argue, a frantic voice cut through the tension.

“Wait! Stop this at once!”

Ha Hu Yeon came running out, positioning herself between Cheol Woo and the warriors to prevent the massacre.

“Please, brother, let it end here.”

Ha Hu Yeon’s face was pale with the fear that Cheol Woo might simply push past her.

Cutting a look toward Ha Hu Je, Cheol Woo let out a short laugh and gave a slight nod.

“I was planning to stop anyway.”

“I am in your debt.”

Ha Hu Yeon offered a deep, respectful bow.

“You’re familiar with these people?”

Ha Hu Song, following closely behind Ha Hu Yeon, glared at the broken bodies of the House Ha Hu retainers.

“Didn’t you just finish your business with the elders? These men are their kin.”

Ha Hu Yeon spoke in riddles. Most didn’t understand, but Ha Hu Song’s eyes widened instantly.

‘So these are the ones!’

His hostile gaze shifted—it didn’t become friendly, but the murderous intent vanished.

Ha Hu Song wasn’t the only one to realize the situation.

“Tsk, tsk. They took a hell of a beating, didn’t they?”

Ju Yu Geol Gae took a swig from his gourd and clicked his tongue at the scene.

“S-Supreme Elder…”

Mo Uk limped over, his right leg trailing behind him after Sima Geon’s strike, yet he wore a look of relief. He was certain the elder would provide the retribution they deserved.

“What is all this noise? I came running because of some strange rumors, only to find myself catching up on an old friend’s business.”

“It is my failure. Hao Gate asked for help against some thugs. We came to provide support, but my disciples were outmatched, bringing shame to the sect.”

Mo Uk spoke with a heavy heart, fully expecting the legendary, short-fused Ju Yu Geol Gae to strike the villains down before he even finished.

But there was no movement. The elder couldn’t act, even if he felt like it.

Having seen what Sima Geon and Cheol Woo were capable of at the Living Immortal Medical House, Ju Yu Geol Gae understood their level better than anyone. Furthermore, had he not just learned of the deep connections his friend Ha Hu Gok shared with these men? He couldn’t move without understanding the full picture.

Ha Hu Song felt the exact same weight. Despite the blood spilled by his elders and retainers, making enemies of these two was an impossibility—especially after Ha Hu Yeon’s quiet implication: had they been serious, no one would be left breathing.